


Hearts and Minds

by wrongfun (scumtrout)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumtrout/pseuds/wrongfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from an anon on tumblr: 'AU where pre-epiphany Tarrlok hits on Korra, Katara sense a disturbance in the force and appears in the city, making Tarrlok so uncomfortable he admits a douchy muddled version of his entire backstory to everyone's horror.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts and Minds

Tarrlok puts his hand on Korra’s shoulder and steers her back up the stairs towards the city hall, away from the reporters. There’s something charming about the way she blinks flashbulb after-images from her eyes.  
  
The gala has gone spectacularly well so far.  
  
He leads Korra to a corridor that’s relatively quiet, and it’s only then that she shrugs his hand away.  
  
Tarrlok ignores a brief pang of annoyance, and keeps smiling. “You’re a natural at public speaking, I have to say. It’s not easy standing in front of the press, but you seemed completely confident.”  
  
Korra looks over her shoulder, back to the stairs, then glowers at him. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I had a lot of choice.”

"Well, you rose to the occasion. Honestly, the more you deal with the media, the sooner you’ll get used to it. You’ll be winning the hearts and minds of Republic City in no time."

"You think?" Korra says. She almost makes it sound like a challenge, or a threat, but there’s a note of uncertainty in her voice that betrays her.

"I know you had a bit of a rocky start when you arrived here, but I think that people will come to love you, Korra," Tarrlok says. "You’re young, you’re very pretty, you’re dynamic, and you’ve got charisma. You should think of every encounter with the press as an opportunity to demonstrate your strengths."

Korra stops scowling so much, but she glances away from him and twists her mouth. “ _Thanks_ ,” she says, before stomping off down the corridor, shoulders hunched.

Tarrlok catches up with her in a few strides. “If I ever suspect that you might run into reporters again in future, would you like me to give you plenty of warning about it?” he offers.

"That’d be _nice_ ,” says Korra.

"Very well. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You’ll be fine. I’m sure that the journalists from the Herald and the Daily are already impressed by you, as I was."

Korra pauses, turning to face him properly, and scrutinizes him. Her shoulders slouch a little. Her expression becomes harder to read. “Thanks,” she repeats, flatly, then walks off again, faster than before.

Tarrlok lets her escape. She won’t get far in this city without him.

Besides, he’s quite glad to see the back of her.

—-

Tarrlok doesn’t see Korra again after that. She’s around somewhere - the security guards say she’s loitering in the kitchen with her friends - but Tarrlok doesn’t have a plausible excuse to talk to her again. He spends the evening catching up with people who he hasn’t spoken to in a while.

He’s in the process of saying farewell to the chairman of the Republic City bank when gets the nagging feeling that he’s being observed.

Perhaps that’s a feeling he should be used to by now, although it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.

Tarrlok discreetly looks around. It doesn’t take him long to spot the culprit.

Some distance away, by an ice sculpture, is a little old lady. The little old lady is staring at him. She is staring at him in a way that suggests she’s considering ripping his throat out with her teeth. If she has teeth. Perhaps she has a special pair of dentures, reserved just for him.

Tarrlok wonders who invited her. Did she sneak past security? Is she a campaigner for something? Is she going to start yelling at him about animal rights or prison overcrowding or lack of jobs for nonbenders or whatever cause is fashionable among ‘progressives’ this week? He hopes she won’t make a fuss. He’s going to look like an ass if he has someone’s senile grangran thrown out of City Hall.

Then he realizes who she is.

What’s she doing here? She wasn’t on the guest list. She’s not meant to be in the city. She’s meant to be back at the South Pole, counting snowflakes or upsetting penguin seals or whatever it is that people do back there. Did she hear that he was holding a gala for the Avatar? Did Tenzin tell her? How did she manage to turn up at such short notice? How long has she been watching him? Minutes, hours, days, months?

It’s known that the White Lotus has spies everywhere, and perhaps that would explain why Tarrlok has felt strangely hunted for the last few years, as if there’s something out there that’s just biding its time, waiting him to slip up. If the White Lotus are to blame for his sense of unease, then perhaps he should find a twisted sort of consolation in this. Perhaps he’s not just going mad.

Though it’s not like being watched precludes being mad.

Anyway, why is Katara glaring when he hasn’t actually done anything yet?

He forces a smile, swoops on the nearest group of hapless bystanders, and tries to begin a conversation about the décor.

—-

As no expense has been spared, the gala includes a meal with multiple courses. Tarrlok doesn’t intend to eat much of it, because the food will just make him sleepy and he’ll spend the rest of the evening trying not to yawn at people, but he still takes a seat at one of the dining tables so he can watch the other guests.

The CEO of United Republic Telecommunications has a seat reserved at Tarrlok’s left, while chair at his right is reserved for the Avatar (though Tarrlok has told one of the interns to sit there if the she doesn’t bother to turn up).

Tarrlok is barely at the table for two minutes before Katara appears.

She claims the vacant chair for herself.

Tarrlok would rather strangle himself with one of his own braids than tell the Grand Lotus that the seat is reserved.

"Ma’am," he greets her. He tries to look as if he’s genuinely honored by her presence, though this probably just leaves him with the expression of a man who’s just recently been kicked in the head by an ostrich horse.

Katara harrumphs at him.

Tarrlok chooses to pretend that the Grand Lotus did not just harrumph at the head of the Republic City Council.

He tries to think of a way to leave the gala without anyone noticing. The table is huge. He could just slowly slip off his chair and vanish under the table. Forever.

The wait staff mill around, serving drinks. Katara picks up her cup of wine and swirls it around in her hand. “I hear you’ve taken an interest in our Korra,” she says, blandly.

"Well, she is the Avatar. She’s an interesting person," Tarrlok replies.

"Mmhm," says Katara.

"Quite an… exuberant girl, you’ve got there. A credit to the Southern Water Tribe."

"Mmmhmm." Katara puts the cup down and stares at him.

"You’ve, uh, taught her well," Tarrlok says, quieter now. "I’m sure she’ll perform her duties admirably."

Katara slowly drums her nails against the table top. “To be honest, I do feel a little concerned about her sometimes. She’s still so young.”

Tarrlok _almost_ says, ‘really? I think she looks quite mature for her age’, then wants to punch himself. “That’s understandable. I imagine she’s like a grand-daughter to you.”

"Yes," Katara says, voice now dripping with menace.

Tarrlok picks up his own cup of wine, takes a very measured sip, then makes himself put the cup back down on the table.

"I’ll do my best to keep her out of harm’s way," he replies. "Though she must be quite capable of handling herself, given the quality of her training." He’s not sure how he manages to say that with a straight face. He’s heard some very gratifying rumors about Tenzin’s teaching skills. Apparently the man couldn’t teach a teenager how to fart in an elevator, never mind obscure airbending techniques. "I have a lot of faith in her ability."

Katara leans forward. “A word of advice, Councilman?”

Tarrlok keeps smiling, one hand still gripped around the wine cup.

"You’re laying it on a little thick," Katara says.

Tarrlok’s face hurts from holding the same expression. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Katara sighs, and looks slightly insulted. “I know what you’re up to.”

She’s just like Tenzin. She worse than Tenzin. She’s like a prototype Tenzin, a Tenzin that hasn’t had all rough edges filed off. She’s a condensed Tenzin, tinier and stronger.

"And what would I be up to, if you don’t mind my asking?" Tarrlok says, very slowly.

Katara keeps staring at him. It’s all the stares of a thousand judgmental grandmas distilled into their purest form. Tarrlok feels as if he’s knocked over a thousand priceless vases, broken a thousand windows, been caught tormenting a thousand cats. He can see it now: his entire life is just a series of smashed ornaments and angry kitties. He’s a rotten little brat.

"No, really. I have no idea," he says. "If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d like to apologize."

"Men like you always feign innocence," Katara says. "You’re so predictable."

Tarrlok feels his patience start to slip. “If you’re insinuating that I’m capable of anything unsavory, then I assure you that my intentions are honorable,” he says. He sounds appropriately indignant. As he should. Because he’s telling the truth. His intentions _aren’t_ unsavory. There’s nothing unsavory about finding Korra attractive. Anyone with eyes would find Korra attractive. (Though the girl could stand to do something about her wardrobe. Her outfit for the gala makes her look like one of those little souvenir dolls dressed in national costume.)

“ _Honorable_ ,” Katara says, as if the word tastes of earwax.

You know what this gala really needs? A terrorist attack. Equalists breaking through the windows, swinging in on grappling hooks. Gas canisters everywhere, screaming guests fleeing for their lives. Things on fire. Chi blockers punching people in the face. Tenzin getting shoved in the ornamental fountain. Total chaos. Then Tarrlok could give Katara the slip.

"Look, I… mean no harm to the Avatar," Tarrlok says, keeping his voice low.

"Oh?" Katara says.

"Her safety is of utmost importance."

"Really."

"I have her best interests in mind."

"She’s useful to you, is she?"

Tarrlok squares his shoulders. “We share a common goal, that’s all. We both want to protect the city.”

Katara’s stare is like an auger. It’s the sort of stare that could drill a hole in a man’s forehead. In fact, Tarrlok gets the distinct impression that she’d like to drill a literal hole in his forehead, and the only thing stopping her from doing so is the fact that it would be considered poor table manners.

Tarrlok has never been eyefucked by somebody’s grandma before. He’s never wanted to be eyefucked by somebody’s grandma. He hopes he’ll never be eyefucked by somebody’s grandma ever again for as long as he lives.

"And you don’t have any ulterior motives, I suppose?" Katara asks.

"No. What sort of person do you think I am?"

That’s a bad question to ask, because Katara just keeps eyeballing him as if she knows _exactly_ what sort of person he is.

"You can be as cynical as you like, but you surely must understand that I have a reputation to consider," Tarrlok says, grimly.

"Oh, I bet you have plenty of people who’d vouch for your character," Katara replies.

"Yes, of course they-"

Katara sniffs. “Reputation means nothing to me.”

Well. Fine. “Then there’s no way I can prove my innocence to you, is there?” Tarrlok says, reaching for his wine cup again.

"You could stay away from Korra in future.” Katara now gives him a sideways look, eyebrows raised.

That’s not fair. “Grand Lotus, with all due respect, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I don’t pose any sort of threat, I have no hidden agenda, and I have no idea why you’re so suspicious of me. I’m honestly just-“

"Tarrlok," Katara whispers, leaning closer as if she wants to discreetly tell him that he has spinach in his teeth, "If you haven’t worked it out by now, I can tell when you’re lying."

Tarrlok freezes. He pays close attention to his heartbeat. It feels like his heart has decided to abandon ship, and is currently trying to punch its way free of his ribs. He tries to picture soothing images. A calm sea. Sunset over an ice field. Brightly-colored koi swimming in a garden pond. Tenzin getting shoved in an ornamental fountain.

He’s quite sure he’s been telling the truth for the past few minutes. Or a plausible version of the truth, anyway.

"Look, your accusations are baseless and I’d never do anything to jeopardize my career," hisses, leaning in slightly so people can’t overhear.

"You wouldn’t hurt her," Katara says.

"No. That’s absurd. The last thing I want to do is make an enemy of the girl."

"You’d have nothing to gain by hurting her."

_"No."_

"You wouldn’t even touch her."

Tarrlok grimaces. “No.” He’s tempted to tell Katara that he prefers men, or older women, or… quiet nights with an interesting book, or very open-minded prostitutes who honor confidentiality agreements, _whatever_ , but that’s really none of her business.

"You don’t intend to try anything. Anything at all," Katara says.

_"No."_

"I have your word that you wouldn’t hurt her?"

"No. I mean, yes."

"You wouldn’t hurt her," Katara repeats, in a monotone.

"I’m not going to assassinate the Avatar," Tarrlok snaps.

Katara slowly leans back, and blinks.

Tarrlok goes to put a hand over his mouth, pauses, hand held in front of his face, then scratches his nose as if he intended to scratch his nose all along, then cups his chin as if in thought, then decides to just put his hand back down on the table where it can’t make things worse.

He opens his mouth and tries to speak. Nothing comes out.

"Why would you assassinate the Avatar?" Katara now asks.

Tarrlok somehow finds his voice. “Didn’t I just state that I wouldn’t?”

Katara employs the stare again.

"Though it must be acknowledged that assassination is a genuine risk that the Avatar faces because she’s a high-profile public figure who has many enemies who may harbour grudges and I’d imagine that, as she’s partly immortal, some of these grudges could go back lifetimes so, as I’ve said previously, your concerns are understandable, and I assure you that I pose no threat to her, though I’d assume that you perform extensive background checks on anyone she interacts with and you should know that I’m completely harmless, as I don’t appreciate it when people make assumptions about me based on hearsay," Tarrlok says.

Katara gives another harrumph.

"I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not him," Tarrlok mutters, and reaches out for his wine, before realizing that the cup is already empty.

"Would you like to know what we do with people who pose a threat to the Avatar?" Katara says, propping her chin on her hands.

"No, because… This is really quite unnecessary." Tarrlok mind grasps for an argument to wield, or at least a topic that he can use as a distraction. "Wait. I’ve just realized. This is all because I represent the North, isn’t it? You’ve singled me out because you think I support Unalaq’s ambitions of reunification. This isn’t about the Avatar at all."

"Well, why else would I be suspicious of you?" Katara says, slowly, as if he’s a small child and she’s a kindly teacher who’s providing a clue to a math problem. "Extensive background checks have been performed, like you said."

Oh shit. She knows.

Tarrlok takes a deep breath. “Look, my father’s been dead for years and I have better things to do than pick a fight with the White Lotus. People move on, and I really, really do not care about any sordid business that took place long before I was born. I was thirteen when I last spoke to the man and I’m quite sure that his last words to me were something like, ‘son, get your scrawny gay ass outta this hut, you look like a cheap knock off version of your brother and it’s giving me the shits’, and I really think he’d lost interest in the Avatar by that point anyway, given that he spent his final days getting drunk and coughing up his stomach lining, and that was not a good time for me, let me tell you, because it wasn’t easy being a gangly teenager whose only skill was torturing small animals, not that I did much of that, because once you’ve twisted one ground squirrel into a sad little fluffy knot you don’t particularly feel positive about yourself, it’s not exactly _life-affirming_ , twisting squirrels into knots, and I wasn’t very good at it anyway, my brother was, do you know that he once managed to turn an entire rabbit completely inside-out? Though apart from that though he was a good kid, really, and it was just the one rabbit, though it didn’t exactly look like a rabbit by that point and it twitched for a very long time and, you know what, I think I deserve more credit for growing up to be a well-adjusted adult. I think my brother is dead by the way, so I shouldn’t have nightmares about him making reverse-bunnies any more. He was a good kid. It was just the one rabbit.”

Katara resumes staring at him, but it is now a very different type of stare.

Tarrlok looks around for more alcohol, but there isn’t any in reach. “Anyway, I think that a unified Water Tribe would be good for the economy though I appreciate that there would be certain cultural ramifications that need to be considered, and I’ve always held a strong stance _against_ assimilation, so I’m sympathetic to-…” He pauses. He has no idea what he’s saying.

"Er. Can you repeat the bit about rabbits, please?" Katara asks.

"What? Oh. I was just joking. Not… that it was very funny." Tarrlok sits frozen in his seat for a few seconds, then sits bolt upright. He’s fucked. He’s so fucked. Now he has to leave the country and change his name and live as a recluse with a thousand cats in some tiny backwater Earth Kingdom village for the rest of his life. Which is terrible. He doesn’t even like cats. “You know what?” he announces. “I think I’ve just spotted the woman who made all the ice sculptures. She’s over there, by that staircase. I’d better go congratulate her on her work. Excuse me.” He stands up from his seat, takes a moment to push the chair back under the table, then marches off (without running) over to the stairs. There’s a door somewhere that leads to the cellar, and then he can slip out via the trapdoor that opens onto Ruishi Street.

—

Katara watches Tarrlok go. She sets both hands on the table, lacing her fingers together, and twiddles her thumbs.

One of the wait staff - a pretty girl with dark skin and golden eyes - pauses by her, and offers an impeccable smile. “Excuse me, ma’am. The food will be ready in another twenty minutes. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

"Mm," Katara says, "No, thank you. Do you know where the nearest telephone would be? Is there one still in the conference room of the south wing?"

"I believe so, ma’am."

"Good." Katara reaches for her cane, and stands up.

The girl’s smile becomes more tentative. “You’re not staying for the meal, ma’am?”

"I’m afraid not."

"Oh. Well, did you have a pleasant evening, ma’am?"

Katara now smiles back. “Yes. Yes, I did. I think I’ll commend the host shortly.”

The girl offers a bow, and Katara makes a slight effort to return the gesture before following Tarrlok’s route out.

Good gracious. And to think she only spoke to the Councilman because Korra complained about him staring at her ass.


End file.
